


Pomp and Circumstance

by Arsenic



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-26
Updated: 2008-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-28 14:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20427617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Written for liketheroad as a cheer-up fic.  Ryan's high school graduation.





	Pomp and Circumstance

The mortarboard looked ridiculous on Ryan's head. Not that that wasn't true for everyone, but the thing truly just didn't _fit_ on Ryan. And Spencer couldn't begin to imagine where he'd gotten his robes, but he was swimming in them. Spencer really hoped he didn't trip on the way up the stairs for his diploma. He managed to get tangled in them _standing still_ so far as Spencer could see and Ginger said, "Here sweetie, lemme see," and pulled a couple of safety pins from her purse. Three minutes of mom-magic later, Ryan looked less likely to drown in his own graduation outfit and Ginger was insisting on roughly four million pictures.

In between picture 2,300,781 and the next, Ryan said, "He's not gonna show."

Privately, Spencer agreed, but all he said was, "You know how he is with time, Ry. He's probably just running late."

When Spencer flipped through the pictures later, he noticed Ryan was rolling his eyes in 2,300,782.

*

Predictably, George didn't show. Spencer couldn't even blame Ryan for not necessarily have seen this one coming, even given his track record of disappointing Ryan whenever it mattered most. He had actually been better since the last time he'd ended in the hospital, since Ryan's acceptance to UNLV along with a letter promising money, lots of it. And Spencer certainly couldn't blame Ryan for the fact that he'd never quite been able to stop hoping that at some point, he'd be more important, more fun, more _something_ than the booze, to George's way of seeing things.

Spencer and his family tried their best to compensate, but Spencer, for all that he didn't want to, got that a father was a father was a father. There was nothing, _nothing_ any of them could do to lessen the pain of that truth, and fuck knew Ryan's mother hadn't even bothered. It was a relief, in some ways, that Ryan had finally come to accept that she was well and truly gone, that he wasn't ever going to see her face in a crowd, cheering him on.

If Spencer ever saw her, he was going to slug her, lady or no. She hadn't played by the rules, so Spencer didn't see why he should have to.

When they called Ryan's name, Spencer and his family clapped extra hard, yelled as loud as they could, like maybe that could drown out the silence of people whose hands weren't clapping. Spencer knew better, but he screamed himself hoarse, all the same.

*

Spencer's family took Brendon, Brent and Ryan out to dinner at Ryan's favorite place, a little mom-and-pop Southern Italian outfit near where Ryan had lived before his mom left. Ryan didn't change his mind about the things he liked all that often. They made him open presents right there at the table. Spencer's family had gotten him a set of dog bookends so that he would have something to personalize his dorm room with, and a flashy fountain pen, because Ginger maintained that no self-respecting creative writing major could go to college without one. Spencer watched Ryan trace a finger along the smooth surface of one of the bookends and wished he could have gotten Ryan a real dog, something Spencer knew he'd always wanted.

Brendon had gotten him a pink tweed pageboy cap, which was pretty fucking inspired, if Spencer did say so. Ryan actually kind of lit up for a moment, before placing it carefully away with his other gifts. Brent had gotten Ryan an iTunes gift certificate. Brent clung to gift certificates as a sure thing in a world of uncertainty. Spencer was kind of glad for it, since picking something out for himself was always better than whatever Brent seemed to think he might want.

Ginger insisted that Ryan get gelato despite the disinterest he'd shown in his main meal. Ryan loved gelato. Spencer said, "Oh, they have torrone, Ry." Torrone was his favorite and it wasn't all that easy to find, not in Nevada.

Ryan opened his mouth, and Spencer could feel the, "Really just not that hungry," coming, but whatever he saw when he looked up at Spencer he said, "Yeah, okay. That sounds great."

*

Ryan left a message for his dad and went home with Spencer. Spencer had a moment of thinking that maybe they should go check that George wasn't choking on his own vomit and then realized he really fucking didn't care. He would care again in the morning, when Ryan was worried and quiet with convoluted emotions, but right now Ryan was just worn, the line of his shoulders hunching tight, his mouth carefully straight.

Spencer said, "Hey, you wanna borrow a suit and crash the Parker's pool?"

The Parkers were Spencer's septegenarian next door neighbors. Ryan and he had been hopping the fence and swimming in their pool uninvited since their early teens. Spencer was pretty sure the Parkers knew and just didn't mind, but it took some of the fun out of it to believe that he and Ryan weren't operating as super sekrit pool infiltrating agents. Ryan smiled, the first genuine smile Spencer had seen out of him all day. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good."

The pool was always a little overheated for the days, but at night it was perfect, a mild answer to the cooled desert air. In the blue tint of the pool lights, Ryan looked like something other than a boy, a man, something more ethereal, slim limbs floating in the water, their motions slowed by the medium. Spencer pushed himself onto his back and looked up at the stars. He could kind of see them out here, in the suburbs. They were a lost cause once you got any closer to the city.

He kicked his way gently to where Ryan was and righted himself, clinging to the side of the pool. Ryan grabbed his own hunk of tile and looked at Spencer for a long moment before saying, "Thanks for not acting like I was stupid."

Spencer blinked at that, because it wasn't like he didn't know Ryan needed those things, but it had been a long, long time since Ryan had verbally acknowledged that fact. Ryan ducked his head. "I know I'm not really going away or anything, but I thought-- I thought maybe I should say it."

Sprencer took a breath. "No, you're not going away." He could only imagine. He knew Ryan, knew him all too well, knew what Ryan must be thinking about being all of about half an hour away, about how Spencer might find someone better, closer, _easier_. "And you aren't stupid, so I wouldn't have any reason to act like it. I tell you when you're being stupid." Spencer did, too.

Ryan laughed a little and pressed his forehead to the side of the pool. "It _is_ stupid. To always expect him to-- It's stupid."

Spencer sighed. "Doesn't count. Family makes us stupid. It's...there's an allowance for that kind of shit."

"I'm probably taking up someone else's."

Spencer thought Ryan maybe deserved a double portion. "That's you. Ryan Ross, stealing family-inspired stupidity from poor children in Africa since 1982."

"You had to make it the poor children in Africa, didn't you?"

"You were acting stupid," Spencer told him.

Ryan said, "Oh-- You--" and went to dunk Spencer. Spencer could totally take him, but he let himself be pushed under. Sometimes it didn't hurt to let Ryan have his way.

*

After they had showered, Spencer heated up a frozen pizza, since he figured Ryan was probably getting hungry, after not having really eaten dinner. They split it while watching "Tootsie" which was one of Ryan's secret sure-bet cheer up films. Ryan pressed himself into Spencer's side, but no further than that until Spencer pulled him in and tangled their limbs up. Ryan exhaled then, unfurling into Spencer's touch. Spencer tucked his hand under Ryan's shirt, palm splayed over back and hip.

In the middle of the movie, when there was music playing and it was hard to hear, Ryan mumbled, "I don't get--" and then just buried his face in Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer said, "Hey," but didn't ask, didn't make Ryan talk. He would if he could. And if he couldn't, there was no good in pressing.

"I just-- I don't get why--" His fingers dug into Spencer's skin where he was clinging. Spencer stayed quiet, still.

"You said-- You said it's allowed for families. But it's allowed because families are supposed--" Ryan's breathing was heavy, it sounded painful. "He's supposed to love me."

Spencer's chest hurt. He said, "He does love you, Ryan," and as much as he hated saying it, that, at least was true. Maybe he didn't love Ryan enough, or the way he should have, but he did _love_ Ryan.

"Sometimes," Ryan said. They could both hear the "when he's not drunk," that Ryan had left unsaid. And there was really nothing to say to that. Spencer knew that it really didn't matter that his family loved Ryan like a son, that any of them would have done anything for Ryan. The problem with the rules for families was that they didn't really apply to anyone who wasn't family.

He said, "I'm sorry, Ry. I'm sorry he didn't show."

Ryan nodded into Spencer's shoulder. He said, "You were there. You guys were there."

"Always," Spencer said, maybe a little more fiercely than he should have. "Always."

*

They fell asleep some time before the credits, twisted in each other. Spencer woke to the feel of a blanket being draped over them, the soft whisper of his dad's slippers on the tiles. His back hurt and his arms were prickling. He stayed right were he was.


End file.
